Wet and Tangled

There is a sexual and carnal sense in the neigh-borhood Laundromat. Even as it sits across from a strip mall, unattended and humming, and has dust bunnies and a dingy gray in every visible corner, there's a sterile and open promiscuity that festers there. It must have something to do with the fact that everyone is airing their dirty laundry in view of strangers, that your underwear hangs wet and sopping in your hand for the coed watching you across the paneled shelf above the washer rows. It's the smell of soap and a sterile and anonymous feeling of being in your t-shirt and last summer's shorts, probably not wearing any underwear under there, as you sit and vacantly watch the other people tumbling, dripping, hanging and spreading.

The laundromat is where you can get a cheap thrill watching her pull out her lace bras out of the dryer and untangling them. His jock strap peaks through the shorts he found at the bottom of his drawer. The people here live within one mile but you will never see them again. Some are older and may be homeless but most, at least here, are college age and talking on the phone as they fold. She isn't wearing a bra and her Go Team shirt is stretched at her neckline. I can look down her shirt and see her tits when she reaches for the last socks at the bottom of the laundry basket.

I sit with my partner and we talk. She isn't wearing any underwear under her sweatpants. There are 3 people on the other side of the middle row of washers, and when two of them leave she stands and pulls down her pants to show me her pussy. Behind her the wall-high window opens blindly to the street. Flashing in public, if only someone was looking in the right direction.

I'm hard. She waits for the girl over there to start folding her clothes, they're all white and are comprised of undershirts, towels and a sheet or two. I pull down my shorts and show her my married erect cock. The sun comes through and shines on my thighs. I'm open to the rest of the Laundromat and the white metal boxes that hum and tumble and beep. Coins drop and she snaps my picture with her cellphone.

I go to the dryer later and people give me sideways looks as I pull the series of women's underwear, camisoles, stockings and bras out and carefully and lovingly stack them in the open.